


Needy

by SelinOriginal



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Daddy Kink, F/F, Girl Direction, Insecurity, PWP, Period Sex, Princess Park Era, Smut, canon but they're cis girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 04:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelinOriginal/pseuds/SelinOriginal
Summary: Harry is insecure about period sex...Louis takes a hands-on approach to help her with that anxiety.





	Needy

**Author's Note:**

> omg...this is such unadulterated smut. this is filth. just straight up girl direction period porn/body worship a little lol. title from Needy by Ariana Grande, a very Harry song. disclaimer that i do not own one direction, girl direction, the concept of period sex...etc. also this is unbeta-d as usual. come visit me on tumblr at selinoriginal.tumblr.com !!!

She refused to say it out loud, but Harry _loved it_ when Louis babied her during her period. Secretly, Harry found herself looking forward to it in the week or so before she started bleeding when she felt her breasts swell with sensitivity and her back start to ache a little more than usual. Like, yeah, it did hurt, but it was totally worth it for the special treatment. Nine times out of ten, Harry was the one taking care of Louis and she loved it, but for the one week out of a month when Harry was crampy and bloated and feeling gross and unlovable, Louis was the caring, doting girlfriend Harry had always dreamed of. They’d only lived together for a few months after being put together as a band and coming in third at X Factor, but Harry was loving the setup they had at Princess Park. She felt proper domestic, like an actual housewife or something. Cooking Louis fajitas for dinner and plating the food in a heart on the dining table was the highlight of her life so far--lighting the candles in their mutual(!) bedroom felt like winning the lotto. But when she wasn’t feeling exactly herself, Louis would always provide her with a heating pad for her stomach and a lap to rest her head on as they watched one of Harry’s favorite romantic comedies together.

Today, Harry was feeling particularly sensitive. “Ow,” Harry said, as Louis sat next to her in their bed, reading some One Direction article online that the PR people had emailed. Louis’ eyes continued to scan her laptop screen, so Harry tried again. “Owww.” Louis looked up then, and Harry wondered if her girlfriend’s eyes had always been so blue.

“Yes?” Louis asked, tone demanding but soft. “Um,” Harry tried lamely. “I’m hurting again.” She pointed to the heating pad on her abdomen and pouted.

“I’m sorry, babes,” Louis said lovingly, setting her laptop on the bedside table and placing her hand atop Harry’s on the heating pad. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Harry shrugged. The truth was, she wanted something she was too afraid to ask Louis for. She almost never got nervous when discussing her desires with Louis. Louis was endlessly supportive and often seemed to know what Harry wanted instinctively before it had even crossed Harry’s mind. Back when they were both figuring things out in the bedroom (the shared X Factor bedroom to be exact, which presented another entirely different set of challenges), Louis had once whispered to her in the dark that she’d do anything to make Harry feel good and Harry believed it. Sometimes Harry lived for locking the door and going down on Louis until her jaw ached the entire next day, while Louis pulled her hair and occasionally took breaks for neck kisses and hickeys. Harry had been with another girl before Louis, and a boy before that, but she had never felt like this before--and had never done some of the things they did together with anyone. She could take Louis’ whole fist inside her and she loved doing it. Other times all Harry wanted to do was suck Louis’ fingers deep down her throat while Louis talked dirty to her and rode her thigh until she was shaking and coming.

There was one time of the month, though, that Harry refused to be touched during. Even though Harry _knew_ in her heart that Louis would want her even though she was on her period--was raw and bleeding and needy--Harry still felt trepidation whenever she thought about being her most vulnerable, human self around another person. Even if that other person was Louis, who she loved so much. Maybe there was a part of her that was afraid of her own body being disgusting or unsexy or _bad_. Especially since becoming a pop .star practically overnight, Harry felt a little sinking feeling whenever her pubes were stubbly or her back was breaking out. Before she became famous she never had to worry about gender expectations or her body hair or her “weird feet” which the tabloids printed pictures of. It was like the entire world wanted to devour her, and devour Louis alongside her. Louis, who they were always telling to grow her hair out and stop skateboarding in public. Who had to trade the Spongebob boxers she wore when Harry first met her for expensive lacy thongs. Harry was so desperate for protection from all this that she was scared of losing the one person she loved, and was worried that her own human flaws would be able to destroy even that.

“I guess there’s one thing you could do to help the cramps, but I don’t want to say,” Harry said finally. Even though she had Louis’ full attention, she turned around childishly, the cord of the heating pad twisting against her thigh.

Harry felt Louis’ hands warm her back gingerly, stroking her through her shirt.

“The thing you don’t want to ask me for...is it because you don’t want it or because you think I don’t want it?” Louis asked. She was always so perceptive. It was partially because she was a little older than Harry, maybe, but also because she loved Harry with her whole heart like the moon loves the sea.

Harry contemplated the question for a second. “Uh, it’s the second thing. If you knew what it was like...you wouldn’t want that. It’s not…” Her voice got quieter. “It’s not sexy or anything.”

Louis tapped her softly on the back until Harry turned around. 

“I want to fuck you through the cramps, H.” Harry’s eyes got comically big. Louis seemed serious--not like she was placating Harry or disgusted by her, but maybe actually a little...turned on?

That threw Harry for a loop. She continued. “Lou, I’m honestly nervous. This is one of my biggest insecurities...that I, like, bleed a lot. That I’m...gross and spotty or something.” Harry couldn’t look Louis in the eye. Practically, intellectually, Harry knew that Louis was an extremely supportive girlfriend. Louis made sure to kiss her love handles and stomach every time they went to the pool together, and that was amazing and reassuring of her. But something deep inside Harry still felt ashamed that her body was not made of plastic. Maybe it was the fame, the public scrutiny that came with being in a top-charting girl band. But maybe it was just part of womanhood--a current that pulled her down the deeper into it she swam.

Louis stroked Harry’s stubbly upper thigh. Harry had on a pair of Louis’ men’s Adidas boxers--her favorite pair that made her feel safe and held. “Harry, you’re not _gross_. I want to be with every part of you, touch every part of you, taste every part of you. Not just the pretty parts they put on the cover of our albums. I could never be disgusted by your body. If it came from you then it’s perfect to me.” Louis seemed sincere, her bedhead turning her hair into a beautiful unwashed mess atop her head that made Harry smile.

Still, Harry shook her head. “But it’s not just like, _blood_.” She half-whispered, unable to look Louis in the eye, “It’s like…chunks...like, clots or whatever. It’s gross, Lou. You don’t want to fuck me through that. It’s not sexy.”

Louis took Harry’s hand and squeezed it. “Remember when we first started dating and I never wore socks and my feet truly smelled terrible but you always ate me out for, like, hours anyway?” She said. Harry nodded and smiled. “Harry, I never want to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe. You never have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just want to help you to feel good. Good about yourself. About your body. Because I love _all of you_. But if you don’t feel up to being touched and all that today, we don’t have to do it! We can watch Notting Hill and I can scoop us some ice cream or make you a Yorkshire tea or something while you sit with the heating pad.”

Harry smiled, big. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had the coolest, most beautiful, most amazing girlfriend of all time--and she genuinely did believe Louis when she spoke. They were really, truly in love.

“God, I love you so much,” Harry said simply, launching the heating pad to the side and cupping Louis’ face in her hand, kissing her hard. She drew back and continued: “And the movie and ice cream and stuff sounds amazing. But before we watch the movie...um, I’m still kind of crampy. I really can’t focus.” She was using her subby voice now, her coy voice. Louis knew it well, and knew what it meant.

“Hm…” Louis pretended to not know where this was going, shifting the covers slightly when she scooted a little closer. “What are we gonna do about that?”

Harry batted her eyelashes and touched her neck self-consciously.

“I guess...um...I always touch myself during my period. I come easier. And harder.”

Louis drew even closer. Harry was on her back by now and Louis on her side, stroking Harry’s thigh gently but with intent this time. “Is that so, baby?” Louis’ tone deepened and got breathier. “You sensitive right now?”

Harry nodded and spread her legs desperately, linking her right foot behind Louis’ ankle. “Yeah,” she breathed, waiting for Louis to move her dexterous fingers from her outer thighs.

Louis teasingly stroked her once through the boxers, then moved back to Harry’s thighs. Harry groaned. Louis continued: “I’m sensitive on my period too...surprised our cycles haven’t synced up yet.” This last comment was too much for Harry.

“_ Daddy _,” Harry moaned, making a move to dig the heel of her palm against herself to ease the pressure, but Louis was too quick. She pinned Harry’s wrist with her fingers and forced it up, to grip the headboard of the bed. Louis raised her eyebrows, a familiar flash of inspiration taking over her face.

“You want that, Hazza?” Louis pretended to be surprised, her finger still trailing treacherously up and down Harry’s leg. “Us to get our cycles all synced up? That turn you on? Us being wet for each other all day, feeling so _ sensitive _ down there that we can’t even take it?” Harry nodded, hand gripping the headboard and body wriggling in vain against the sheets, trying to get any amount of pressure on her clit.

Louis drummed her fingers and whispered into Harry’s ear, “Maybe you’d like that, Haz...being all overwhelmed. Maybe we’ll take a bath together and I’ll soap you up and ride your thigh, use you to get myself off...then I’d towel us both off and suck your clit until you cry.”

“Please touch me, Lou,” Harry whined, desperate and unashamedly rutting against the sheets at this point.

“How does this feel?” Louis asked, running a finger slowly up Harry’s inner leg, stopping just before the line of the boxers. Harry trembled.

“Lou, don’t tease.” 

“Oh yeah? You don’t like it when I tease you?” Harry shook her head no vehemently. She loved when Louis took the lead like this. All the pressure of their sudden celebrity status--and sudden closeting--had left both of them reeling, and the healthiest way they were able to cope and release some of the conflicted feelings and emotions about their lack of real-world control was in the bedroom. They’d both discussed their desires at length in the X Factor house when their “sleepovers” and “girl’s night” showers always seemed to end in Louis’ tongue down Harry’s throat, Harry begging for Louis to tie her up and sit on her face. In retrospect, Harry thought, maybe this was not something that gal pals did.

“Are you sure you want this, baby?” Louis waited for Harry’s enthusiastic nod before slotting her thigh _hard_ in between Harry’s, who felt herself contract suddenly like an electric shock. She could feel herself getting wet, absolutely pooling past her tampon in Louis’ underwear. She couldn’t tell what was blood and what wasn’t, and began to doubt her sexiness, wondering if she should go and put down towels on the nice sheets.

As if she could read her mind, Louis said, “I think you do like being teased. Are you wet for me, Hazza?” Harry nodded.

“Yeah? You dripping down there for Daddy? Getting Daddy’s boxers all wet?”

“Yes, Daddy. Want you to feel.” Harry took Louis’ hand and placed it on the outside of her mound. She squirmed with arousal, but wanted to check something before things really got going.

“Um, Daddy?” Harry asked. “Should I go and get a towel?”

Louis continued rubbing her and said, somewhat ridiculously: “H...we’re millionaire lesbians now. If you think I want anyone else’s blood staining my silk sheets you’re wrong...I want to fuck these sheets up with you and then buy you more. I don’t give a fuck, I just want my fingers inside you.”

It only took Harry approximately .5 seconds to get over the bleak environmental ramifications of what Louis was saying, because Louis’ hand was breaching the bottom of the boxers.

Her fingers nestled in the dark curls of Harry’s pubic hair, moist and coarse. She felt around, aimless, perfectly content to touch Harry where she was molten and soaked.

She slipped a finger over Harry’s clit and Harry’s legs bucked involuntarily around Louis’ hand as she drew in a harsh breath.

“What’s that, baby? You sensitive right now? You all tense and overwhelmed? Need Daddy to help you out? Release some of that tension?” Louis was speaking in her Daddy voice which Harry couldn’t help but whimper at.

“Yes, please,” She said. And then, for clarification, added: “You can be rough, Daddy. I can take it. Need you to be.”

Louis was laser-focused and seemed somewhat amazed as she moved her fingers lightly over Harry, slipping off her boxers in the process.“You’re so hard, baby...so wet...why didn’t you say so? You need this so badly, Hazza, don’t you?” Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes. “Yeah, please,” she babbled back, eyes glued to the image of Louis between her legs. Her clit throbbed as Louis cooed sympathetically, gliding her fingers over Harry’s folds and feeling the wetness there.

Louis looked challengingly into Harry’s eyes and said, simply, “Can I take it out?”

Harry blushed, but of course embarrassment was the one thing that made her wetter. “You, can but, like, you don’t have to fuck me when I’m like this, if it’s gross,” she said self-consciously.

Louis crawled further in between Harry’s legs and kissed her, pulling Harry down on the bed and hoisting Harry’s knees up, bracketing herself with them as she kissed her harder, tongue in Harry’s mouth.

“Ah!” Harry cried, but was cut off by another kiss from Louis. Louis bit her neck just then, _hard_, the way Harry liked it. Bruising and possessive.

Louis continued whispering filthily in Harry’s ear as she pulled out the tampon without ado, placing it gently on a tissue on the nightstand. “Fuck, Haz, you’re so wet for me,” she said, breaking Daddy character a little as her fingers felt Harry out. Louis used one hand to grip Harry’s thigh punishingly and the other to insert a finger into her. “Oh, fuck!” Harry cried, and she realized that touching herself during her periods were nothing compared to having Louis touch her. The sensitivity of her body was somehow skyrocketed when Louis touched her, and everywhere she touched felt somehow like an internal massage--a release. Harry didn’t even care about the blood or her body or how many rolls she had on her stomach in a given position--she was being thoroughly _fucked_ by a girl who loved her and that was the best feeling in the world.

Louis added more fingers, each deliberate thrust shaking the wrought iron headboard against the wall.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up, fuck you so good you’ll clench around my cock,” she said into Harry’s ear, one hand fucking up into her and the other pinching her extremely sensitive nipple. Harry moaned, and then came almost instantly, seeing stars as Louis’ fingers curled and fucked _deeply_ up into her G spot.

Harry was blissed out; she felt the orgasm curl her toes and her whole body clenched up. The wetness gushed out of her as she contracted helplessly around Louis’ fingers, but she couldn’t care, her body wracked with love and relief and joy. It seemed like Harry was coming forever. She felt wetness on her face and wondered when exactly she started crying. Maybe when she realized, in the midst of everything, just how in love with Louis she really was.

Louis stared back at Harry, smiling, sweating a bit with how hard she had fucked Harry. She rubbed a hand lovingly over Harry’s stomach and Harry looked into her eyes meaningfully.

“Love you so much, Lou...Please sit on my face. Use me. Wanna make you cum, Lou.” She was begging now. Tears streamed down Harry’s face. She was so, so happy. She _trusted_ Louis...trusted her to keep her safe, to make her feel good. Harry trusted Louis to be gentle and kind with every part of her. Parts that were easy for her to love about herself and parts that were more difficult to accept.

Louis shook her head, _yes_, as if she couldn’t believe Harry was real.. “Shit, Haz...I’m so wet for you. Was wet the whole time I fucked you. Here, feel.” Louis guided Harry’s hand to the inside of her shorts and she was right; Louis was soaked. Louis pressed a hard kiss to Harry’s face and rutted against her searching fingers. “Please let me eat you out, Lou,” Harry gasped in between kisses. “Please ride my face Daddy.”

“If that’s what you want, babe,” Louis said, shucking off her own shorts and placing Harry’s hands above her head, back on the headboard. “Be a good girl and let Daddy fuck your face.”

Harry moaned as Louis sat on her chest, then rose up a little to let Harry lick her cunt. Harry was ravenous; she poured every ounce of love and angst and care she held in her body for Louis and for their relationship into eating Louis' pussy like it was the last thing she would ever do. She fucked up into Louis with her tongue and Louis shook all over. Harry spent ages circling her tongue delicately around Louis’ clit, then Louis decided to take things into her own hands and thrust wantonly back into Harry’s tongue. She put her hands on Harry’s, which were still gripped around the headboard, stroking her thumb against Harry’s as she came.

Louis slid down and Harry’s face was _covered _in her wetness.

“Darling, you’re coated in vagina,” Louis licked Harry’s cheek and Harry rolled her eyes. “Looks good on you,” Louis added with a wink. “Especially when it’s my vagina.”

“Well you’re the one whose sheets are forever fucked up by what looks like a murder scene,” Harry grumbled, crossing her arms defiantly. “No amount of bleaching I do will fix them now.”

“Murder scene? Murdered that pussy, more like!” Louis cried, forever reclaiming 13 year old boy humor. She kissed Harry on the cheek.

“Are you feeling any better, Haz?” Louis said, taking a more serious tone. Harry stood up to go and get another tampon, which she definitely needed, but her cramps really were completely gone. “A lot better. I love you, Lou. Every part of you. So much. Thank you. Also, um, can we still watch Notting Hill?”

“Of course, love. And if you want to borrow another pair of my ratty old boxers, there’s some in the top drawer.”

Harry took her up on that offer.


End file.
